


Day 3- Kev and Veronica

by danceinstylinson



Series: Day by Day [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceinstylinson/pseuds/danceinstylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 3: Kev and Veronica stop by. Mickey realizes he might actually care about his son after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 3- Kev and Veronica

**Author's Note:**

> So this part's on the shorter side, and Ian's not really in it. Kind of a filler tbh but still an important part in the overall story. xx

It was just about noon when there was a knock on the front door. Fiona had just left for one of her NA meetings and the rest of the Gallaghers were in school, so Mickey had no idea who else would be knocking on his door. (If it were any of his brothers they would have just barged in). _Maybe Fiona forgot something?_ Mickey thought, scanning his eyes around the living room as he made his way to the door. 

When he opened it, he was surprised to find Kev and Veronica standing on his front steps. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. 

“Hey, Mickey,” Kev said, his voice soft and full of concern. 

“Move,” Veronica said suddenly, pushing her way into the house. Mickey let her pass, blinking after her, completely confused. “This casserole is heavy!” she called, her heels clicking towards the kitchen. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Kev said making no move to enter the house. “Her arms get tired from holding the babies all the time. Anyways,” he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Came by to drop off your cut from the business. Figured I’d save you the trouble of coming down today.” 

Mickey hesitantly took the envelope, his eyes glancing down at it and back to Kev. “I thought I was working today?”

Kev waved his hand, “Nah man, it’s cool. You’ve got a lot going on. Don’t worry about coming in to work, I can handle it. The girls’ll be fine.” Kev clapped a hand around Mickey’s shoulder. “He needs you more right now,” he said with a knowing look. Mickey nodded, unable to find words. 

“Alright the casserole’s in the oven, I put it on a low heat just to keep it warm,” Veronica said, reappearing from inside the house. “Oh, and I talked to Fi earlier, but I figured I’d let you know too, I got all sorts of meds and shit at home, from all my nursing jobs. I know you guys are still taking things day by day and seeing how it goes, but if you need it, I got shit, alright?” 

Mickey just nodded again, his eyes glued to his hands. He wasn’t used to having so many people around all the time, so many people offering him help. It was all still new, having people he could trust and rely on. He’d never relied on anyone his entire life. But he appreciated them and their help nonetheless, even if he was still shit at expressing his gratitude. “Thanks,” he said finally, glancing up at the both of them. 

“Sure, no problem, Mickey,” Kev said, patting him on the back. 

Veronica looked like she was about to hug him, her eyes soft and sad, but instead she just squeezed his hand. “You’re doing a good job,” she said. “If you need anything…just know we’re here to help. We care about Ian. And you too.” 

“Yeah man,” said Kev. “We don’t just work together. We’re buds, okay?” 

Mickey didn’t really know what to say. He was so exhausted, last night had been another long sleepless night, and then he’d gotten up early to go on the laptop with Mandy and look up shit about the disorder. He just couldn’t process much at the moment, let alone get his mouth to form words. So he nodded again, hoping that would be enough for Kev and Veronica. 

“Alright, well, see you around, man,” Kev said as he and Veronica descended down the stairs. “Call if you need anything. And really,” he said turning back to Mickey, “don’t worry about coming to work. Just take care of your boy, don’t forget to sleep and eat, take it easy man.” 

Mickey just watched them go, the envelope of cash still in his hand. He stood there for a long while, long after Kev’s truck had pulled away. It was only when he heard the sound of Yevgeny’s cries that he snapped back to life. 

He trudged back into the house, the front door falling shut behind him, and he slapped the envelope down onto the dining room table. He then headed down the hall to Terry’s old room, where Yevgeny laid in his basinet. With a heavy sigh he picked up the screaming baby and carried him into the kitchen where he prepared a bottle the way Fiona had showed him. 

He was too tired to tell the baby to shut up or grumble in annoyance as he made the bottle. Too tired to do anything other than collapse onto the couch and curl Yevgeny against his chest as he propped up the bottle. He let his eyes fall shut for just a moment and took a deep breath. Yevgeny’s cries stopped as soon as the bottle was in his mouth, and then there was nothing but silence. It was almost easy to forget that he wasn’t actually alone in the house, that there was another person there besides him and the baby. That in the room, just down the hall, the person he cared about most in the world was lying there in the dark, unmoving, staring at the wall. 

He took another deep breath and opened his eyes. Yevgeny was nearly done with his bottle, his eyes closed. Over the past few days, Mickey had come to notice that he seemed to fall asleep after his feedings. He was noticing a lot of little things about the little guy actually. And Fiona had been helping him out a lot too. More than he was willing to admit. He honestly never even knew how to change a diaper or make a bottle before she’d showed him. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t really mind the baby that much. He hated the crying and the pooping but he was actually a really good baby most of the time. He didn’t _hate_ the baby. But, like with most things, he was really shit at expressing how he felt. And he still didn’t really know how to describe how he felt. And honestly he hadn’t had much time to really figure out how he felt about _anything_ involving the kid. All he knew was that right now, exhausted as he was, he really didn’t mind having the warm weight of his son against his chest. Maybe this was something else he was going to have to take day by day as well.  

 

 

 


End file.
